Watch Me as I Fall
by winter machine
Summary: "What do you say to someone after almost forty years?"  A tale in three parts of Addison's past, present and future.  *Complete.*
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This three-part visit to three stages of Addison's life is something slightly different. As you'll see, it's narrated by an outsider, but it's really about Addison. All chapters are going up at once. I hope you'll bear with the story and let me know what you think. **_Revised in an attempt to get section breaks to work. _

**Song lyrics come from Ry Cumin's "Always Remember Me."**

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_**Pretty eyes, long hair, smells so sweet like summer in the air. Watch me as I fall into the water calling, watch me as I sink into the sea and always remember me.**_

**Part I: 1973-1974**

"Will you stay a long time, Debbie?" asks the redheaded child who has become her shadow.

Oh, how this question always tugs on her heart. She passes Addison her bath toys, the pink duck, the barbie with a greenish mildewed hairline that she refuses to give up.

"I'm going to stay a while, sweetie. But then I'm going back to school."

"Why do you have to go to school?" Addison splashes a plastic boat through the bubbles.

"I want to go to school, Addie. You do too, don't you?"

"_Yes._" she says decisively. "With Archie. I'm going, next year." Debra knows for a fact Addison's slated to attend an all-girls' school across town, but she declines to mention it.

"Right. School's fun. You learn things, make friends..."

"Can't you go to school here? And live with us? You can go to my daddy's school."

"Well." She procrastinates, spending more time than necessary combing a tangle out of Addison's long, wet hair. Adds more hot water to the bathtub to protect the room from the early-autumn chill. "Your daddy teaches people who want to be doctors. I want to be a lawyer."

"How come?"

"To help people."

"Doctors help people."

"That's right. But in a different way." And they need to be better at math, she thinks. To distract her charge, she scoops a handful of melting bubbles from the tub and blows them gently at her. Addison giggles and repeats the gesture.

**ooo**

She loves children, always has. Loves how entertaining they can be, how wise and yet innocent. No two days are ever the same. She's been baby-sitting since she was a teenager, has loved all her charges, but there's something about the little redhead. It's the big, expressive eyes, maybe. How wounded they can look sometimes. How she follows her around, sometimes tucking a small hand into the patched back pocket of Debra's jeans.

Archer, at nearly eight, is stunningly self-sufficient. He has school, friends, golf and tennis lessons. Small gold-plated trophies lines his shelves. Addison's five, just shy of losing a front tooth and attached to her hip like a flame-haired leech. She sometimes feels like she has only one charge; that suits each of the children just fine, as far as she can tell. Addison soaks up as much of her time as she can give. Archer, on the other hand, isn't much interested in a nanny, though he likes when she reads _Hardy Boys_ to both kids before bed.

It's one of her favorite times of day, when they pile on the big red armchair in Archer's room, Addison snuggled on her lap and Archer - though he would never admit this to his friends - resting his head against her arm. The children are bathed and ready for bed, damp hair, clean flannel pajamas, smelling of ivory soap and mint toothpaste. Debra feels a rush of tenderness toward them in these moments so powerful that she wonders how their own parents can keep such a distance.

The product of a middle-class home - the Montgomeries would consider them horribly poor, she's sure, both parents teachers, heavy mortgage, lots of generic grocery products - Debra's used to dinners as a family, washing the car outside while a football game plays on the radio, everyone laughing at the television at night. The most she's seen Mrs. Montgomery interact with her children is to remind them to keep their voices down. Dr. Montgomery is rarely home, either, and when he is, it's tense and strained between him and his wife.

Debra's not used to this; most of the families she's sat for have been more like her own, and most of the marriages she's observed have been more like her parents'. But her heart's set on law school and the money's hard to pass up.

The money's hard to get used to, as well - the Montgomery estate looks like something out of a novel, she thinks, one drafty room spilling into another and household help for tasks she's never even heard of. They could buy and sell her whole hometown, she knows.

But even though she shared a room with two older sisters her entire life, bunk beds, one bathroom for five people, even though she's spending the year nannying to offset the heavy debt load of her schooling, it took her less than a day in this huge, chilly Connecticut estate to know, without a doubt, that she's the lucky one.

**ooo**

"I want to go too!"

"It's _cub _scouts, Addie," Archer says as witheringly as an eight-year-old can. "Cub means boys."

"Cub means _bears._"

Debra tries to hide her smile - she's such a smart and funny child, it's more than enough to make up for the anxiety, the clinginess, and now Addison is tugging at the hem of her shirt. "I want to go with him, Debbie."

"Sorry, sweetie. Not this time. You and I will have lots of fun here, okay?"

"Nooo..." she whimpers. It's always a struggle when Archer has an activity without her, just as it is on her own days off.

Debra picks Addison up. "Have fun, Archer."

Archer relents - he usually does - and says "I'll play with you when I get back, Addie."

She sniffles in response, face buried in Debra's shoulder, and mumbles "okay."

"Go on, Archie. She's fine." Debra frees a hand to ruffle Archer's sandy hair. He's a nice boy, really, and a nice-looking one, compact and sturdy. There are three years between him and his sister, but she can already tell that lanky Addison is going to get the height.

To Addison she says "I know a very special box of finger paints that hasn't even been opened yet."

Addison lifts her head. "Finger paints are messy."

"I know. That's why they're fun."

**ooo**

Addison is sitting on the floor, thumb in her mouth. "You came back."

"Of course I came back. It was just my day off." She drops cross-legged beside her and Addison climbs into her lap, toying with the wooden beads around her neck.

"I told you I was coming back, Addie." She smooths the tangled red hair.

"You're going to leave for reals, though."

Debra closes her eyes. "Not for a while, honey. Not for a good long while. Okay?"

Addison nestles closer. "Tell me a Funny Milly story?"

"Of course." She kisses the top of her head. "Did I tell you the one about Funny Milly and the poodle across the street?"

Addison shakes her head.

"Well, one day in the winter, when it was still all snowy and a little muddy under the snow..."

Addison takes hold of Debra's arm and pulls it tighter across her as she talks.

**ooo**

She brings Addison to her own neighborhood, outside Bridgeport, once. If she's disappointed by the modest row houses and postage-stamp lawns, you'd never know. She's beyond gleeful at the idea of riding the train, and bounces excitedly in her seat when the conductor lets her punch her own ticket.

"How do you do, Mrs. Jarvis," Addison says politely, holding out her little hand to Debra's mother.

"Call me Dot, hon." Dot smiles at the redhead in the bright yellow scarf. She's heard about the kids before. The vast Montgomery house is eerily silent most of the time, so it's been hard to make a phone call with any semblance of privacy, but she managed to call her mother from the empty library once, a few weeks into the job.

"You doing okay there, kiddo?" Dot had asked.

"Yeah. The kids are great. But it's just - it's just really _weird _here_._"

"Rich people are strange."

"Mother!"

"Isn't this a nice surprise," Dot says now, smiling at Addison. "Do you like dogs?"

"Yes!" Addison has been begging to meet the real Funny Milly and she drops happily to her knees to pat the contentedly panting lab.

"What's going on?" Dot whispers while Addison is distracted.

"I thought it would be fun for her, and -" Debra lowers her voice. "-and it's her birthday."

"You're kidding."

"I wish."

"The parents?"

"In Europe. Separately," she adds, unable to resist.

"Every cliche in the book, huh, kiddo?"

Debra rolls her eyes. On the floor, Addison is rubbing Milly's exposed stomach, giggling as the dog thumps her tail with pleasure across Addison's feet.

"Hey, Addie, how 'bout we take Milly for a walk around the neighborhood?"

She keeps her out for an hour and when they get back there's a pink supermarket cake with a six candles.

"Is that for me?" Addison runs in. "WOW!"

_Thank you,_ Debra mouths silently to her mother.

"How did you know it was my birthday?" she breathes.

"A little bird told me," Dot winks.

Debra gives her mother an extra-long hug before she leaves.

**ooo**

She wakes to the sound of crashing glass. The kids. She jumps up and Addison is already in her doorway.

"Debbie! I'm scared."

"No, sweetie, everything's fine." She ushers the little girl into her room, closes the door. "Where's your brother?"

"He's sleeping. He always sleeps," Addison says, adding "They're mad."

"Everything's going to be fine," Debra soothes. She can hear the raised voices from downstairs. Debra grew up in a house with voices raised frequently in laughter, good-natured debate, even shouting. Not like this silent, tense house. Here, noise is rare, but when it happens, it shakes the walls. Nothing spoken, then it explodes.

There's another crash from downstairs - sounds like a plate smashing - and Addison jumps. "It's loud!"

"Shh, it's okay." She pulls her into her arms. She can feel her heart thumping.

"I can't sleep."

She rocks her gently. "I know. You stay with me, okay? It's okay." Addison falls asleep in her bed, head on Debra's lap, and she waits until it's quiet downstairs to carry her back to her room.

She tucks her back into bed. She wakes briefly and reaches for her hand. "Deb-"

"I'm here. Shh, close your eyes." She sits on the side of Addison's bed for a while, holding her hand, until she's sure she's asleep.

Then she gets up, opens the door of her bathroom to make sure the nightlight is on - her own bathroom! Debra couldn't help but be shocked, at first, that a small child would need one.

She pokes her head into Archer's room. Fast asleep. He sleeps like a log, never bothered by any commotion: thunderstorms. Arguments. She straightens his blankets anyway before heading back to her own room. She pulls her knees into her chest and lies awake for a long time before she falls asleep again.

**ooo**

"Oh my gosh - I'm so sorry-" She turns her back immediately, pulling Addison with her so she won't see the Captain hastily buttoning his shirt while Yvette, Archer's French tutor, zips up her dress.

"Daddy's home?" Addison tries to wriggle around her.

"He's working." Debra wraps an arm around her, hustles her away from the library. "Let's go practice the piano while he finishes up, okay?"

**ooo**

She's sat for many a bad sleeper but Addison is the worst.

"Debbie, I can't sleep," she whispers from Debra's doorway, at least once a week. It might not be a good practice, but Debra would have dared anyone to look into those enormous, teary eyes and refuse her. So she usually let Addison doze against her in her own bed until she either falls asleep or calms down, and then carries her back to her room.

One early spring evening, after it took ages to get Addison back to sleep, she tiptoes carefully down the unlit hallway with the slumbering child in her arms. It's dark but she knows this floor of the house well, and doesn't want to risk waking Addison up by putting on a light. She's concentrating and doesn't see the shadows play over the figure until she's bumped straight into him.

She cradles Addison's head automatically, praying she won't wake up.

"Doctor Montgomery - I'm so sorry," she whispers.

"Please. It was my fault," he says at normal volume.

She's grateful it's dark so he can't see her burning cheeks. How do you talk to your boss after witnessing what she has? And not just the one time, either.

He's still blocking her way.

"She's fine, she just had a bad dream. I'm going to put her back in bed," Debra murmurs quietly, indicating the sleeping bundle in her arms.

"She - oh. Good," he says shortly. "And, how are you...Debra?"

"Um. Fine, thank you, Doctor Montgomery." She shifts Addison slightly onto her hip and the child wraps sleepy arms tighter around her neck in response.

"Captain. Haven't I told you to call me Captain?" His teeth flash whitely in the darkness.

"Captain, sorry. Uh, excuse me, I'll just get her back in bed now..."

She holds Addison a bit closer as she edges by the Captain, conscious of the fact that she's only wearing thin cotton pajamas. Even in the dark she can tell that he's looking at her, and it makes her vaguely uncomfortable.

When she goes to set Addison down the little girl clings tighter and Debra, exhausted herself, gives up and decides to lie with her for a few minutes. She wakes in Addison's white princess bed the next morning, sunlight streaming through the ruffled curtains, her charge still cuddled up against her.

**ooo**

"Daddy's taking me out today!"

Addison is fairly jumping with glee, her saddle shoes slapping the hardwood parlor floors. Debra sees Bizzy cast a sharp glare at the noise and she crouches to Addison's height, taking her arms gently to help her calm down. The Captain hasn't been home in nearly three weeks. While Debra can guiltily admit she'd rather not see him, she's aware his daughter feels exactly the opposite.

"I know, Addie, and I know you're excited. Let's get your jacket."

It's an effort to hold her wriggling charge still enough to button her into the navy wool pea coat. She's carefully tugging Addison's pigtails out of her collar when the Captain passes.

"Not today," he says shortly to Debra, over Addison's head, as he strides by.

"Wait here one sec, sweetie," Debra whispers.

"Captain, I - she's really been looking forward to this -"

He doesn't turn around.

She follows him out the door. "Look, I don't intend any disrespect, sir, I just think she's going to be so disappointed, and..."

Addison has caught on and is jogging down the front steps. "Daddy-"

Oh, brother. Debra squats to stop her. "Hey, you know what, hon? Daddy just found out he has a work emergency, and so you might have to have your fun day with him another-"

"No!" She pulls away. "It's today, he said - Daddy!" She chases him down the drive.

The Captain shoots Debra an annoyed look.

She tries to take Addison's hand and the child yanks it away.

"I want to come with you, Daddy. I'll be good - please?"

"Another time, kitten. A little help here?" he asks Debra sharply.

"Addie, come on, sweetie-"

Addison sidesteps her arms and latches on to the back door handle, trying to open it.

The Captain continues to ignore them, simply turning on the engine with his daughter still pulling at the door. Debra's certainly not going to let her get run over and, alarmed, she pries Addison's small hands off the vehicle with a force born of urgency and scoops the struggling child into her arms.

Addison lets out a wail as the Captain's car rolls away and Debra notes, with teeth-gritting anger, that he blows a kiss over his shoulder as he disappears down the private drive.

"Okay, Addie, it's okay." She rocks the sobbing child. "I know you're disappointed. I'm sorry. I know."

Addison goes quiet as soon as the car is fully out of sight. She slips a thumb into her mouth and rests her head limply against Debra's shoulder.

"Let's go back inside and play, hm? We can have a girls' day, just the two of us. You want me to paint your toenails?"

"Okay," Addison whispers, her voice muffled by the finger in her mouth.

**ooo**

She's studied child development and knows what night terrors are, knows they're different from nightmares, but that doesn't stop her from sitting straight up in bed with heart-pounding shock at the first ear-piercing shriek. She races down the hall to Addison's room and pushes open the door. The child is sitting up in bed, eyes wide and terrified, sweaty hair standing out around her colorless face.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, wake up," she slides onto the bed directly in front of her, speaking softly, doesn't touch her. "Wake up for me, okay?"

Addison starts, sees Debra in front of her. Her eyes change like a shade snapping up over a window, asleep to awake, and she bursts into tears. Debra gathers her up, their hearts pounding together, rocks her until her cries die down. Her nighclothes are soaked with sweat and Debra strips them off, sponges her down, finally tucks her in warm, dry pajamas back under her blankets. She's too exhausted and a little nervous to go back to her own room, so she curls up at the foot of Addison's bed, like the faithful companion in the Funny Milly stories she loves, and falls asleep.

**ooo**

The day comes, like it always does. It's warm now. Crocuses peep their bright heads up from the soil around the steps.

"I'm going to miss you two. You look out for each other, okay?"

Archer's already accepted a quick hug, agreed that this will probably be his best baseball season ever, and is leaning against the columns of the portico, tossing a ball casually from hand to hand.

Addison's eyes are shining with unshed tears. She stares resolutely at her small sandaled feet.

Debra crouches in front of her.

"Hey, listen, Addie, Sofia's going to be here, remember- you have a great new nanny who's going to love you and you're going to have so much fun and everything's going to be fine. Just like we talked about."

Addison slips her thumb into her mouth, looks past her. "Okay," she says quietly, her voice slightly muffled.

She turns her head a little when Debra leans in to kiss her goodbye, so she ends up with a mouthful of red hair. "Bye, sweetheart," she says softly.

This part always hurts, but it's never hurt quite this much.

She's met the new nanny - chose her herself, from the list. She's spent the day with the kids already, and Debra's warned her as subtly as she could about the sleep disturbances, and the tension. She seems warm, patient, and competent, but still...

They send her off in one of the chauffered Montgomery cars and as it glides up the drive she turns around in her seat, peering out the back window for a last glimpse of the kids. Archer's already back inside. Addison is still sitting on the front step, alone, thumb in her mouth.

Debra waves until she can't spot the small figure anymore. It doesn't occur to her until they're halfway to Bridgeport that Addison wouldn't even have been able to see her through the tinted car window.

She settles back and tries to dull the ache in her stomach that always comes when she has to leave a beloved charge. She thinks about big sea-green eyes, the dully resigned tone that breaks her heart.

What else could she do? It's not her child. She couldn't stay forever.

Doesn't make it any easier, though, to leave and not know what's going to happen next.

_I hope she'll be happy,_ she thinks. _I hope she'll be loved._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Come back, back to me, back to where the mountains meet the sea.**_

**Part II: 1994**

"Ma, aren't we too old for this? You haven't read me the wedding announcements in years."

All Debra's friends were married years ago. Some still are.

She's one of them. The love of her life (a prosecutor; hard to believe, but he won her over on their first day of Criminal Procedure) is currently on his hands and knees in the den, their youngest riding gleefully on his back, making horsey noises that are so enthusiastic she half wishes his cop friends were here to poke fun at him.

Their middle child is scowling at the kitchen counter, struggling through a math problem set that neither of them really understands, gnawing the eraser at the end of her pencil.

"Any chance you remember how to graph equations?" Debra asks. Her mother was a public school teacher for decades.

"They do it all differently now. So, no. Deb, I'm telling you to look because that little girl you used to sit for - the Montgomery girl - is in there."

"Really?" She searches the jumble of school calendars and half crossed-off grocery lists on the kitchen counter. They'd already been through the paper over brunch, as they usually do, and at least part of it suffered rather serious bacon grease stains. At least she can catch it before one of the kids turns it into paper mache or uses it to line the birdcage. She rifles through the discarded broadsheets, finds the Styles section, smooths it out, and scans the names.

_Dr. Addison Montgomery and Dr. Derek Shepherd_

A doctor, already. Last time she saw Addison she was still taking teddy bears' temperatures with popsicle sticks.

She studies the posed picture: long hair, elegant oval face very different from the round freckled one she remembers. It's definitely her, though. There's no mistaking the wide, light eyes - and anyway, there certainly aren't two Addison Montgomeries out there whose weddings would be in the _Times._

Twenty years later and there she is. She realizes poignantly that all three of her own children are older now than Addison was when she nannied.

"He looks like a nice catch," Dot observes.

The gentleman in question has copious dark curls, impossibly soft eyes and a boyish smirk. His head is inclined almost imperceptibly toward Addison's. She's looking right at the camera, smiling broadly, one hand gripping his shoulder.

"Mm-hm." She reads down the line of the familiar, stylized prose.

_Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery, the daughter of Beatrice Forbes Montgomery and Dr. Adrian A. Montgomery of Greenwich, C.T., and Dr. Derek Christopher Shepherd, the son of Carolyn M. Shepherd of Grovetown, Maine, and the late Michael Shepherd, were married last night at the Plaza in New York._

So Bizzy and the Captain are still together. Interesting.

_The bride and bridegroom met at the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Columbia, from which they both received medical degrees. _

She smiles a little at this. _See, Addie, _she thinks, _I told you you'd make friends at school._ She reads on.

_Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd, 26, who will hyphenate her name, will complete her second year of surgical residency at Lenox Hill, the New York hospital, this year. She graduated magna cum laude from Yale. _

Addison ended up at Yale, then. _You can go to my daddy's school_, she remembers her saying, many years ago. _Oh, Addie._ If her college choice was meant to get her father's attention, she can only hope it worked. She doubts it, though. She's never known people to change that much, not in the ways that really matter.

_The bride's father is an adjunct professor of clinical neurology at Yale School of Medicine. The bride's mother is the president of the Junior League of Southern Connecticut and sits on the board of the New York City Ballet and the Connecticut Botanical Society. _

She sighs a little as she reads. From the reluctant perspective she gained that year in Greenwich, she supposes many of the other wedding announcements also cover hidden pain with these primly worded pursuits.

_Dr. Shepherd, 27, is also a second-year surgical resident at Lenox Hill. He received his undergraduate degree from Bowdoin College. The bridegroom's mother is the deputy chief of practical nursing at the U.S. Veterans Hospital in Augusta, Maine. _

She doesn't know much about Maine; she's never been north of New Hampshire, in fact, but she catches a comfortingly familiar whiff of the middle-class in the description of his family and she hopes it might mean a little less dysfunction. A little normalcy.

"Well, what do you know," she says finally, because her mother is still waiting on the other end of the phone for her to respond.

"I remember her. You brought her to the house once, didn't you? Those sad eyes. Real poor little rich girl, right?"

"Yeah," Debra says. "That's her."

She studies the picture again. It's black and white, of course, but the big, haunted eyes still somehow look the same shimmering green she remembers. She touches the image with one finger. She doesn't want to put the paper in the recycling bin, sensitive even two decades later to the child who was so anxious about being cast aside.

"Hey, who's that?" Kathleen leans over, happy for any excuse to stop doing her math homework. "Hi, Gram!" she calls into the phone.

"Just someone Mom used to know." Debra tugs lightly on her daughter's ponytail, reorienting her. "Don't you have some more work to do, missy?"

Kathleen rolls her eyes but turns back to her notebook.

Long after she hangs up the phone, Debra still can't bring herself to throw the paper away. She folds the page instead and tucks it carefully into a kitchen drawer.

She's thought of her occasionally over the years, of course, as you do: When her own daughters were five and six years old, bright, inquisitive, without the haunting pallor of benign, moneyed neglect. When she drove past the Greenwich Garden Club. When a plate smashed.

As she closes the drawer on her former charge's frozen newsprint smile, she finds herself thinking the same thing that's crossed her mind any time she's thought of her in the last twenty years.

_I hope she's happy. I hope she's loved._


	3. Chapter 3

_**We'll build a house of driftwood and keep it simple 'cause simple is good**_

**Part III: 2011-2012**

She turns the pink message slip over in her hand. "Are you sure?"

"She spelled it and everything." Her secretary shrugs.

Debra props her feet on her briefcase, adjusts her reading glasses and dials the number. "This is Debra Cunningham. I'm returning your call."

"Debra - Jarvis?"

"Yes, but I haven't been Jarvis in thirty years. Cunningham's my married name."

"Oh. It's Addison Montgomery," she says, unnecessarily. "Thank you for getting back to me."

"Addison. It's - it's been a long time." Quite an understatement, but what do you say to someone after almost forty years? What if it's someone you used to bathe, and feed? And comfort? Love? "How are you?" she asks.

"I'm fine," Addison responds briskly.

"I saw your mother's obituary in the _Times_, and - I'm very sorry for your loss, Addison."

"Oh. Thank you. That actually wasn't why I was - but it was kind of you to write. My brother and I appreciated it."

"Of course."

It's remarkable, Debra thinks, that she can still recognize this strong-voiced woman as a product of her younger self. Not that she doesn't sound like a competent, professional doctor - a surgeon, Debra knows, and a highly successful one at that - but she can hear a hint of the anxious five-year-old underneath.

_Are you happy?_ She wishes she could ask. _Are you loved?_

"I called you because - well, I saw your name on a website. I've read about your firm. Your specialty."

"Oh?"

"You said you wanted to be a lawyer to help people."

"You remember that?" she asks, surprised.

"Yes. And I - I guess I was hoping you could help me."

"Whatever I can do," Debra says immediately.

She's there when they bring the wide-eyed bundle off the plane and place her in her mother's arms for the first time. Debra had been planning to retire in two years but she questions it, again, as she watches the airport reunion. She's handled scores of single-parent adoptions, but this one's special. As usual, of course, no one's eyes stay dry.

Addison invites her to the homecoming party a few months later, once she's had time to settle in, and with Sean's blessing Debra takes a few days and flies out to the west coast. Their youngest, Patrick, is in school at USC so she makes a trip of it.

There's a festive, open quality in the air at the beach house. A huge WELCOME HOME banner. All sorts of people crowd the rooms and spill onto the oceanfront deck.

She doesn't see the Montgomery men, but there's a tall man with a strong, bearded jawline who proffers a baby-sized Yankees cap, jokes with an attractive black couple, their teenager and another baby. There's a lanky gentleman with greying dark curls who she thinks at first glance might be the bridegroom from the _Times _announcement, with another woman around Addison's age, but he introduces himself as a lawyer and they talk shop for a bit. A ringleted woman and her broad-shouldered companion chase a sandy-haired toddler along the deck. And there's a petite blonde with a slight, but noticeable, pregnancy bump, on the arm of someone who tells Debra he's the baby's pediatrician. And many others.

It's happy, relaxed and noisy, the house filled with sunshine and excited voices.

"This is awesome," grins a brunette in a tee-shirt emblazoned with _KICKASS AUNT, _as she passes out pink bubblegum cigars and plastic glasses of champagne.

"I'm thrilled for you," Debra says when she finally gets an audience with Addison, who's been whirling from guest to guest, vanishing every once in a while with her daughter to change diapers or soothe fusses.

Addison's eyes are soft, lit up against her simple white shirt. Debra observes that the child she once carried effortlessly is now a predictably statuesque woman, half a head taller than her former nanny.

"You look - this is - well, this is the best part of the job, Addie."

"Thank you," Addison says quietly. "Thank you for everything." She bounces the baby lightly on her hip.

"Bea," she says to her daughter. "This is Debbie, Mommy's...Mommy's friend."

"Hi there, sweetie," Debra coos.

The baby grabs for Debra's glasses and they both chuckle.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"I'd love to."

Debra, a grandmother twice over now, cradles the plump warmth of the baby, admiring her shining cap of dark hair and round pink cheeks. "She's precious."

The child screws her face up slightly with the beginning of tears, reaches for Addison and Debra hands her back.

Addison cradles the little girl in her arms, kisses the top of her head, and the child stops whimpering instantly, smiling up at her. Addison beams down at her daughter, her sea-green eyes shining.

As Debra watches them, a small knot buried deep in her stomach nearly forty years - one she didn't even realize she still carried - melts at last.

_She's happy. She's loved._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note: If you've come this far, thank you for reading. Ry Cuming's moody, haunting song was played on last week's **_**Private Practice**_**, when Addison got the results of her pregnancy test (which was when I decided Addison needed this story). If you haven't listened to the whole song, I highly recommend it.**


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